


Sonic Spike

by chosenheart



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Garrison Trio Being Perfect, High School AU, Lance/Hunk/Pidge BFF Combo, Literally So Many Characters Are Here, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, antics and shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-04 20:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14601213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chosenheart/pseuds/chosenheart
Summary: Keith Kogane is a junior and the rising star of the boy’s soccer team. At a generous five-foot-six, he doesn't paint an intimidating figure, yet it's his demeanor that repels most of the student body. He’s unsociable, broods worse than an edgy anime character, and is severely hotheaded. To Lance’s knowledge, the guy has, like, no friends at all; rightfully so, in his opinion, because Keith is as unlikable as a root canal.Alternatively: How Keith lackadaisically worms his way into Lance's resentful heart. All it takes is a peculiar stuffed animal from an exuberant teacher, a tragedy, and begrudging partnership.





	Sonic Spike

It starts in an echo of shouting through the spindling, concrete halls. It’s a chorus of chaotic chants as teenagers pour out of classrooms and stairwells to gather around what seems to be the start of a fight, judging by the  _oohs_  and glittering phone screens catching the florescent lights overhead. Snapchats are sent out in clips and in an oceanic wave, nearly the entire junior class has found their way into the hallway.

Lance hears the sound of a body hitting the lockers and attempts to squeeze his way through the crowd for a better view. If he focuses, he can hear the two boys who are fighting speaking to each other beneath the roar of their classmates, but he can only hear the words in clips.

“-- fucking bitch --”  


“-- try me --”  


The clatter of books spilling onto the linoleum and the crunch of knuckles connecting to a bone split the sound. Lance catches sight of an iPhone ahead of him recording the action and watches as James Griffin, an arrogant soccer jock, hits the ground with a hard thump. The cheering escalates.

“Holy shit!” someone is shouting.  


“Oh my god, did you  _see_ that?”  


“Dude, he’s dead!”  


“Keith fucking  _murdered_  James!”

_Keith?_ Lance's brows furrow. _Did Keith take down James?_ He hops in an effort for a clearer view but manages only to catch the top of Keith’s head in all its mulleted glory. “Aw, c’mon!" he shouts in frustration. "I wanna see!”

If anyone hears, they don’t acknowledge. Students are clambering over one another to get as close as they can without being in the direct line of fire. They move collectively, as if one unit, and laugh at James' misery in chorus.

“Get to class!” comes an authoritative shout and that startles the majority of the crowd. They scatter like rodents and duck into rooms, most chattering childishly with a buzz of adrenaline.  


Lance steps aside and considers fleeing the scene as well, but he still wantsto witness the aftermath. Mr. Shirogane storms past him and Lance sneaks a glimpse of James struggling to collect his bearings while Keith Kogane, chest heaving and eyes dark, stands over him with a dangerous gleam.

Keith Kogane is a junior and the rising star of the boy’s soccer team. At a generous five-foot-six, he doesn't paint an intimidating figure, yet it's his demeanor that repels most of the student body. He’s unsociable, broods worse than an edgy anime character, and is severely hotheaded. To Lance’s knowledge, the guy has, like, no friends at all; rightfully so, in his opinion, because Keith is as unlikable as a root canal.

Mr. Shirogane is hoisting James to his feet when Lance turns away. He can hear the scolding, the disappointment, and knows those two are up shit creek. To himself, he can only roll his eyes.  _It’s what they deserve_.

He slips into his chemistry class with a couple of other students, attempting to blend in as if they weren’t just out there making a spectacle, but their teacher is staring at them with benign exasperation and it’s apparent that they all know they’re guilty. Fortunately, he isn’t yet late. The bell rings right as Lance settles into his seat between his lab partners Hunk, his best friend, and Pidge, a genius freshman and friend who has aced her way through taking both biology courses.

“Did you see the fight?” Pidge asks, hushed, all curiosity and a gleaming grin.  


“Sorta,” he admits. “I couldn’t get a good view with all those big ass heads in the way.”  


Hunk sighs. “Who was it this time? Anyone we know?”

“James and Keith,” Lance purses his lips. “I mean, of  _course_  it’s Keith. That guy couldn’t control himself even if he wanted to, which, by the way, I’m pretty sure he  _doesn’t_.”  


“I hear that,” Hunk says. “Wonder what it was about.”  


“Over-inflated egos?” Pidge offers. “Fragile masculinity?”  


Lance smiles, barely containing a laugh. “Probably both.”

Their teacher has risen from his desk and is holding up his hands for silence before curling the tip of his orange mustache. “Alright, I know there’s been some real excitement this morning but please settle down. Turn your attention to the board where--”

“Men are weak,” Pidge tells them and both Lance and Hunk nod sagely.  


“Katie! Your attention, if you would.”  


Pidge drops her cheek into her hand and flattens her expression. “Sorry, I’m listening.”

“Wonderful! Now then, as we learned yesterday, scientific notation is written...”  


At Lance’s right, Hunk takes diligent notes, while at his left, Pidge slides her notebook towards him and taps the chicken scratch she’s written in the top corner. It reads,  _so who won?_

Lance glances up at Mr. Smythe blathering on about  _moles_ , and when his back is turned to scrawl on the board, Lance takes the opportunity to respond.  _Keith. James was on the ground._

Pidge reads with a quick nod and jots,  _any blood?_

_No,_  he writes.  _Didn’t see any._ He offers a tepid smile as she taps her pen.  _Looking for a body count?_

She takes her notebook back and doodles a grin with pointed eyebrows, fangs protruding past the line of the mouth, and they both smother their amusement with their hands.

“So, in the spirit of learning about the importance of the mole, I’d like you all to meet a friend of mine!” Mr. Smythe opens a drawer in his desk and retrieves a weathered stuffed animal that looks, to Lance, like a peculiar rat. Giggling rolls through the classroom. “Now, class, this is Petunia! As you kids can see, she’s a mole! She’ll be here, on my desk, completely alone when we leave class today, so none of you touch her! She’s a relic! Practically a mascot for chemistry!”

“Uh, Mr. S,” Hunk says as he raises his hand. “Isn’t that the same mole someone steals from you literally every single year?”

“Steals?” he sounds positively aghast. “Oh, absolutely not! What petty thief would take a beloved plush mole from a kindly old man?”  


Lance offers Pidge a sly grin, to which she adjusts her glasses with a hum of satisfaction.

The pact is sealed.

\---

When the bell rings to dismiss them, Mr. Smythe makes a show of his departure. “My, I need a coffee after all of this hullabaloo! If you’ll excuse me,” but before he leaves, he turns back to the students while they collect their backpacks. “Oh, and don’t forget: don’t touch Petunia! See you all tomorrow!”

The students pause to stare at each other.

“Nope! Nu-uh! No one touches Petunia! I’ve already called dibs!” Lance catapults over his desk and snatches the toy, hoisting it high in the air. “Now scram!”  


Some of their classmates laugh. One boy attempts to grab it from Lance’s hands, but he’s too slow and Lance is far too passionate. “Hey, beat it!”

“Yeah, you heard the man!” Pidge wedges herself between the two and crosses her arms as if to frighten. “Fuck off!”  


Hunk is chuckling from his seat, shaking his head as he slips his binder into his bag. “You two are ridiculous. It’s honestly so great. I love you guys.”

Lance beams. Pidge raises a shoulder with a pleased smile.

“So, what’s the plan?”  


“I was thinking we pass her between us,” Lance says as he stuffs the mole into Pidge’s open backpack. He has to push the head down to force it in and manages to catch his finger between the zipper’s teeth. "Ow!" Pidge openly laughs at him, to which he scoffs, “hey!”  


“Okay, I _know_ I don’t control the backpack, but it sure seems like I do!”  


Hunk joins the laughter as he nudges them towards the door. “So we each take it for a day or two, or like, pass it from locker to locker?”

Lance taps his chin. “How long does she usually go missing?”  


“I can ask Matt,” Pidge offers. “He had this class last year.”  


“Good idea! Your brother’s pretty cool.”  


“Cool? Matt’s a nerd.”  


“ _You’re_  a nerd!”  


“Kiss my ass, McClain!”  


In the hallway, they mutually realize Pidge’s protruding bag is suspicious. Hunk acts as a shield, flanking her side to eclipse her tiny stature from view, while Lance keeps an eye out for Mr. Smythe on the off chance that he’s decided to reemerge from the teacher’s lounge. Instead of Mr. Smythe, however, they see James Griffin with an ice pack over his swollen skin that blossoms purples and yellows around his eye. He’s escorted by, presumably, his irate mother, whose business casual speaks to her having to leave work early. James gives them a dirty look for staring as they pass.

“ _Yikes_ ,” Hunk is saying, “James looks...”  


“Fucked up,” Pidge finishes helpfully.  


Through the steady stream of students ahead, Lance sees Keith leaning on the wall beside the principal’s office. He’s staring downward beneath his inky bangs, shoulders hunched defensively, and when they’re close enough, Lance shoots him a vicious glare. Keith, that asshole, doesn’t even have the decency to notice. He never does.

“Who does that guy think he is?” Lance says loudly as they walk by, but Keith makes no indication that he’s heard. “I mean, come on! Does he think because he’s some sorta soccer superstar, he can just do whatever the hell he wants?”  


Hunk frowns. “We don’t know what happened. Lay off a little.”

“Oh-ho, I bet I know what happened! Keith couldn’t handle competition for captain and flipped out!” Lance whirls around, but Keith is now halfway along the opposite end of the hallway, trailing after a stern Mr. Shirogane, and Lance knows they’re too far to be heard over the hallway chatter.  _Too bad_ , he thinks. He’d fight Keith, too, if only he could rile him up enough to have a viable excuse. Why won't Keith notice?  


“I think,” Pidge says, turning to face Lance, “you’re way too obsessed with that guy. Who cares what Keith does?”  


“ _You do!_  You wanted to know what happened!”

Her brows furrow. “Well,  _yeah_ , but not because I care about  _Keith_.”  


“I don’t care about Keith, either!” Lance folds his arms across his chest and glowers at his friends. “I just think he deserves a wake up call! He’s not hot shit and someone needs to get that through his head.”  


Hunk reaches out to put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Lance, buddy, my dude, please calm down. Maybe one day you can tell Keith off to his face, but, honestly? You’re gonna have to wait because I’m pretty sure he’ll be suspended for a while.”

“Remember that one guy--what was his name? Devin? The guy who pushed that other guy down the stairs in September?” Lance and Hunk both look to Pidge as she stops in front of them. “He was suspended for an entire month, remember? I mean, I think that was particularly heinous but even still...”  


“A month?” Hunk shakes his head and turns to Lance. “See? Like I said, it’s gonna be a while. Just breathe for now.”

They don’t get it, Lance realizes. They don’t understand why he hates Keith so much, even though he’s certain that he’s told them. Both still act as if it’s a mystery and that Lance is being dramatic, as usual, and although he loves the two of them, he can’t help but feel a scorch of anger burn his throat. It isn’t complicated and it certainly isn’t _deep_ ; Keith is a dick and therefore Lance thinks that he’s the worst person on the planet. Easy. Simple.

Lance scoffs and takes a sharp turn towards the staircase. “I’ve got to get to World History. I’ll see you guys later.” He doesn't look back.

\---

“So, who should take Petunia first?”  


They’re standing in the grassy courtyard in front of the school by a delightfully colorful bed of flowers. Pidge has her neon green backpack in the dirt and is knelt over it, peering in at the stuffed animal with a maniacal smile that, Lance notes, is sincerely terrifying. Who let this girl out into the wild?

“Well, since you already have it--”  


“Her,” Lance corrects.  


“ _Her_ ,” Hunk parrots. “Since you already have her, why don’t you take her tonight?”  


She hums before reaching in to pluck the mole out of her bag. “Wanna come home with me, Petunia?” She wiggles the stuffed animal to make it nod and raises her voice an octave higher. “Yes please, Pidge. I know you’re the best person in this whooole group!”

“Excuse me!” Lance crosses his arms and jokingly turns his nose in the air.  


“Aw, Petunia. You hurt Lance’s  _widdle feewings_ ,” Hunk says as he drops down as well, patting the mole on the head. “Try to be nice. He’s a sensitive guy.”  


“Oh no,” Pidge turns the mole towards Lance. “I’m sorry, Lance. Please don’t cry.” She reaches its arm out to touch the back of Lance’s knee in stuffed empathy.  


“I might,” Lance juts out his bottom lip and faces them again, “but I forgive you, Petunia.”  


“Yay!”  


“What are you three goofballs up to?”  


In unison, their attention turns to watch Matt Holt approach them, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder and auburn hair a fluffy mess. He offers them a friendly smile and their expressions light up.

“Hello, strange man whom I’ve never met before,” Pidge greets, voice high, as she holds up Petunia to make it wave.  


Matt gasps. “What? Oh my _god_ , is that Mr. Smythe’s mole?” He’s wide-eyed as he leans in close to appraise the Honor’s Chemistry artifact. A slow, approving grin pulls across his lips.

The trio exchange pleased glances.

“You guys are my absolute  _heroes_!”

\---

Keith is absent in the dungeon that is Algebra 2 the following morning. Lance stares at the empty space diagonally from his seat. That idiot really did go and get himself suspended, didn’t he? Lance dismisses the thought with a shake of his head.

_ Stupid Keith. _

\---

In English class, they’re going around the room reading passages from The Canterberry Tales. This is, typically, a boring endeavor, yet this time it’s Allura’s turn and the way that she lilts the passages sounds like a song. Lance is captivated. His cheek is pillowed against his palm as he stares, lovesick, at his crush of three years. Her curly white hair is tied up in a regal braided bun and she’s focused on her book, nose crinkling every so often against the foreign spelling, but she sounds so confident despite her brief pauses. It's as if she’s made for public speaking. Lance could listen to her all day.

Hunk pokes his shoulder and whispers, “you’re drooling,” except he isn’t really, although he may as well be.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs back.  


Hunk exhales a gentle sigh yet pats Lance's shoulder in console.

The pursuit of Allura has been fruitless. They’re friendly, and, in fact, Allura has regarded Lance as a friend, but she’s uninterested romantically and although it hurts, Lance has stopped actively asking her on dates. It’s disrespectful to her, he believes, when she’s said no before, and she's aware that he’s interested, so he thinks -- hopes, really -- should she ever change her mind, she’ll know she need only say so.

Still, he can’t help how he feels. Her gorgeous features, her sharp mind, and her powerful personality are all undeniably attractive. She’s out of his league, if he’s honest, but he’s optimistic by nature. One day, perhaps she’ll see him the way he sees her; one day, perhaps she’ll fall for his charm, his kindness, and all of the doting love he has to offer.

A boy can dream.

The sound of the intercom buzzing halts Allura and draws the students’ collective attention. The tinny static of the office assistant’s muffled voice clatters through the the speaker. “Excuse me, is Lance McClain present?”

All eyes turn to Lance and his cheeks pinken under the accusatory attention.

Their teacher buzzes back, “yes, he is.”

“Can you send him down to the office? Thank you.”  


Hunk’s brows raise and Lance shakes his head. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

“Lance, please just go to the office. Don’t make a scene,” Ms. Nix says in exasperation as she tucks her hair behind her ear.  


Lance, for his part, stands and throws his backpack over his shoulder. He gives Hunk one last look of uncertainty before he offering an apologetic smile to Allura, who lifts her hand in a sympathetic farewell.

In his mind, he hears Chopin’s Funeral March.

Has he done something wrong? Is everything alright at home?

The hallway, he finds, is deserted. The emptiness reverberates, and if not for the murmur of classes in session behind closed doors and the sunlight filtering through the windows, it could be the scene of a horror video game. Pidge always says these moments are peaceful, but Lance can only find them eerie at best. It's lonely, perhaps, to be in such a big building and have not a single person nearby.

Down two flights of stairwells, he finds himself in front of the office and takes a steadying breath. His brows knit when he enters and turns to the secretary’s desk.

She looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, I’m Lance McClain. You called for me?”  


“Oh,” she shrugs her shoulders and points to a heavy wooden door. “Mr. Iverson wants to talk to you. Go ‘head in.”  


Coach? He frowns. Why would the coach want to talk to him? He finds himself taking shots in the dark with each new guess as he turns the doorknob to find the burly soccer instructor waiting in a swivel chair behind a disorganized table. Lance shuts the door behind himself and plops down in a seat across.

“McClain, it’s been a while,” is how he’s greeted and Lance grits his teeth at the memory.  _Sure has._  “Let me get straight to the point. Our center and goalie are out on suspension, but now I'm only down one player and we have a game next week. You tried out earlier this year and were first on the list of benches, so I’m asking you if you want to join the team.”  


Lance stares.

“With some rearranging, I’d like you on defense.”  


He’s having difficulty digesting this information.  


“To be completely honest? Your tryout was sloppy and you need some work, but I think training with the team could hone your skill. Now, I’m not saying this’ll be permanent; depending on what the principal decides on Kogane and Griffin when they get back and how well you do, I might keep you around. This is the best offer I have.”  


“How long are they suspended for?” Lance finds himself asking before he’s regained composure.  


The coach’s dark eyes are appraising, narrowed as if studying Lance through a microscope. “Two weeks, McClain. So, what do you say?”  


“Yes!” he stands so quickly, he nearly gives himself whiplash. “Yes, definitely! You won’t regret this.”  


“Saying that makes me think I  _will_  regret it,” Mr. Iverson says, unimpressed.  


“No! No, I promise, Coach.”  


“Fine. Alright, so practice is every Tuesday and Thursday after school. We meet at the field at three o’clock sharp, so don’t be late or you’ll do extra drills.” Mr. Iverson rises, reaching a hand out, which Lance takes with vigor. “Welcome to the team, McClain.”  


“Thank you, Coach!”  


His heart soars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the mole thing is based on a 100% true story and it’s literally one of the best memories of hs i have. lol!
> 
>  
> 
> prepare your butts for one long ass slow burn romantic comedy high school bullshit (tm). i don't think this is going to be your typical romance story and i really aim to capture some semblance of realism, so hopefully that works out! i'm also enjoying writing this wayyy too much and i laugh at my own jokes. :'D
> 
> if you enjoyed it so far, please feel free to comment & leave kudos so i feel some validation for my many hours of work. haha!! (please, i’m crying.)
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://chosenheart.tumblr.com). i'd love to chat!
> 
> until next time!


End file.
